Zodiac's toy, John Jones [nonfiction book recommendations .txt] 📗

nodded in agreement.

'Science cannot prove that astrology is real. It has failed thousands of tests…’

'Some of the planets based on the zodiac were discovered after astrology came into being, so how can they be based in a constellation?’

Plus a plethora of nonsense...rubbish...fake...coincidence...

Yes, Ray thought. There were thousands, maybe millions of people out there who were non-believers. He smiled, his non-belief reinforced.

Blotto had been asked by Gary to stop Chimp selling cocaine, of which Ray was glad, and he went out and found a Ram from somewhere because that would probably threaten Chimp into obeying, but the animal just started smashing the place up, mostly the cannabis growing equipment. There was barely even anything resembling a coincidence here, and if it was then that was what it must have been. He put the cards on the untouched bedside table and went out happier, helping Chimp in the clean-up.

 

Even though Shane was never firing on all cylinders, having some sort of foriegn body circulating around his system, he was entrusted enough to look after the weapons in his flat. There was another small safe that was crammed with notes in the bedroom cupboard. The dealer didn't trust him with the code.

The weapons were all laid out on the bed sheet on the floor in the living room, and he wished he could just get rid of them. Or when 'Nugget' came in, now he was given a key, blast him with the Snake charmer shotgun, or shoot him in the back of the head when he opened the safe. Now that this was practically Nugget's 'shop', he was one of those people who it was hard to get to know. The type of person you had nothing to say to if you were talkative and trapped in a lift. He wasn't necessarily quiet. He spoke to his friends on the phone a lot, and would have a fair few customers.

Usually Nugget knew if somebody was coming to view the weapons and would make sure he would be there, but there were those that appeared out of the blue, so he had kind of made this place a second home. Sometimes he would sit with Shane and watch television. Neither of them saying much other than small-talk. Nugget had control of the remote, and had his phone nigh-on surgically attached. So even though Shane was in his company a lot, Nugget made no attempt to become Shane's friend, but Shane had tried slightly, offering him drinks and smokes. Nugget refused drinks but not smokes, and he also seemed to be the type of person who the second you crossed, you would have a knife in your back. He may become a surface friend. An acquaintance, but he would drop you like a stone, or put a bullet in your head without thinking twice. Not the type of person you kept as a true friend, or would want to get to know properly, or at all.

Shane leaned forward on the sofa, cigarette in mouth, looking around at the weapons for sale. Knuckle-duster knives. Hand grenades. Various daggers. Sub-machine guns. Handguns. Shotguns.

Business seemed to be going rather well. There was usually several customers a day. It seemed weaponry was an untapped market for Nugget and Gary. People wanted them for 'protection', to intimidate somebody, or to just plain attack them. Sometimes Shane wondered what the obsession was with weapons. He didn't really understand it. Perhaps it made them feel more 'masculine'. He nodded at that, and picked up a grenade and scrutinised it. A mini-fragmentation delay V40. There was around ten of them on the sheet, and he leaned back on the sofa.

I wonder if this will fit in my mouth, he thought, but didn't do it. No more Lee. No more Gary. No more stupid fucking gun-runner imposed on him, and when are we going to see money for this? he thought. I'm supposedly renting this place to him am I? or getting a cut of the profits.

He put the grenade back on the floor. I've seen nothing for any of this, and I reckon Ray has seen no money for his either. Might be time to go and ask, but not yet. He smoked his cigarette.

Was that apprehension? emerging inside him, at the prospect of asking blatant criminals for money. If they said I could be cut in, then I could be cut in right?

Right?

Me and Ray are owed money. Don't know how much, but it's about time we had something. Yet, the slowly roiling apprehension kept him seated until the cigarette was smoked, where the door opened and Nugget walked in talking to someone. A tall, thin man with long, wavy hair.

"Here we are," he said, "come in". He came into the living room, ignoring Shane and gesturing to the weapons. The customer nodded an acknowledgement to Shane, but that was all.

"Good stuff," he said. "These will easily take care of the gang situations we've got going on around our area. Little fuckers on quad bikes, hanging round on corners and being bloody annoying".

"So are you going to use the weapons or threaten them?" Nugget asked, picking up a Glock .40 handgun.

"Possibly both, depends. We've just had enough in our neighbourhood. The police don't do nothing so I've been tasked with buying a load of stuff". Nugget lined the gun up to point at the window, then pointed it at Shane, who flinched as if a spotlight had just been turned on him.

"Only joking. I couldn't help it," said Nugget, pointing it at the wall.

"This will do serious damage," he said to the man. Shane stood up and muttered that he was off to the pub, and he wondered why he had said it at all. Neither of them would care, and neither of them acknowledged him as he left, continuing to look at the weapons.

 

 

 

Chapter 29

 

Mandy had been posted to another nursery for three months. One she had been to before. It was slightly further out than her regular place, and this time she had to get the bus because her car had needed to go into a garage to fix a suspension shock absorber, so it was public transport for her for the time-being. The car had been in that garage several times, and they always did a decent job, but took their time over it. Not because they wanted to get it right, but Mandy thought simply through laziness, but it was convenient, and nearby, so she took it there.

Mandy and a colleague had taken several of the infants to the local park where there was a duck-pond. Having a surplus of out-of-date bread they had decided on a morning out for the children to feed the ducks and the moorhens and the swans that turned off their fear of humans when they saw food.

The children were babbling with excitement as they threw the bread into the water with the ducks taking it out of their hands, and harangued Miss Powell and Mandy for more bread.

"Don't forget to feed the ones at the back as well," said Mandy, and the children began throwing the bread further out.

As Miss Powell was handing out more slices, she noticed from the corner of her eye somebody approaching, looking at Mandy.

"Mandy, do you know him?" she said, and when she looked her shoulders slumped.

"Yes," she said, "It's Carl, my ex-fella".

"Hi Mandy," he said, as if everything was normal. "What you up to? Feeding the ducks".

Well arn't you bloody observant, Mandy thought. She put on a painted smile and walked back onto the pathway.

"Carl," she said, out of ear-shot of Miss Powell. "You can't come here, I'm at work, and how d'you know I was here anyway?"

"I went the nursery and they told me," he shrugged, "anyway, all I came to say was that I forgive you. I know you won't have replied to that guy on the website, so I thought I'll come back. The kids'll be missing me".

"No Carl, they're not. They haven't asked about you because they know you'll go running off again to some other bimbo who'll see through you and kick you out. We're not together anymore. You saw to that, and I'm happy with it, now go away I'm working. That's my boss".

"I'm just saying you're forgiven, that's all. See you tonight ye? I'll buy you a take-away".

"No Carl I..." but he turned and walked away, heading for the park exit. Mandy returned to the children.

"Okay?" asked Miss Powell. "He seems nice". Mandy gave a strained, humourless smile and threw bread to the birds.

 

She knew tonight he would come back. He would badger his way inside, back into her affections, take down her defences and install himself back inside her comfort zone, as he had countless times before, but something inside Mandy's brain said no. She had really had enough, and even if she remained single for the rest of her life, she would be happier.

Before even getting to the bus-stop, he appeared.

"Hi babes..." Carl said, behind her.

"Carl what are you doing? Have you been following me?" He shrugged.

"Just to know where you were, and anyway, arn't you grateful that I forgave you? We can be a family again". The word ‘family’, and a mental picture of them all together hit her defences hard, but they did not topple.

"Carl, we're finished, remember? How many times have I got to say it?"

"Come on babes..." he said, his voice raising, causing a few people to glance in their direction. She was grateful when the bus appeared around a corner ahead.

"I'm going home, but you're not coming back".

"Aww come on, I've got no bus-fare. We can go back and start over".

"How many times have we started over? You've had plenty of chances and you've blown them all. This is your fault Carl". When the bus pulled up, she allowed the others to get on, and when she put one foot on the bus, told him:

"...and I've got a new boyfriend,” she said in the hope of him walking away, but wasn't surprised when his voice raised even higher, and people on the bus looked in his direction.

"Yer wha? What the fuck? Who is it?" The doors closed and the tyres turned to move.

"Who is it?" he shouted, banging on the window. "I've got rights to see me kids you fucking bitch!". The bus pulled away, Mandy's heart racing as she went upstairs where there were only a few others.

She rested her head against the window as the bus made its slow journey home. He would come to the house tonight, she was sure of it. Convinced, and then he would get to work on crashing down her defences.

 

The journey was one of those bus-rides that went half-way around the town before getting to where she needed to go, and along the way it passed a gym, and in the car-park she saw a man rummaging around in his car-boot. A body-builder. A man wearing a vest, tracksuit bottoms and white trainers. Even from this distance, she found him attractive. The bus was approaching a stop. Somebody had their hand out. Her mind raced:

IneedaboyfriendIneedtoshowCarlIreallyhavelefthim...

So she found herself getting up, and getting off the bus, nerves racing through her as she made her way onto the car-park to find the man still at his car boot.

What am I doing? she thought, but her feet walked her towards him, and she knew that once she had his attention, that was that, no going back. Mandy always found body-builders attractive, and knew they were not always that popular among women because of the 'unnatural' look. Muscles upon muscles upon muscles, but she did. There was something about them, a 'ripped' physique to the point where she didn't much care what he looked like. A gym bunny with short red hair. This man had everything she found attractive. Even his face looked 'chiselled'. If he was bone-white and struck a pose, he could easily be a statue.

It was clear he was going inside rather than